


The First Day of the Rest of Their Lives

by Prix



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Ben Solo Deserved Better, Ben Solo Lives, F/M, Living is Harder, Redeemed Ben Solo, Virgin Ben Solo is Not Ready
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-14
Updated: 2020-02-14
Packaged: 2021-02-28 05:34:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,292
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22608625
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Prix/pseuds/Prix
Summary: Ben Solo survives and must confront the consequences. Fortunately, Rey will not let him face it alone.
Relationships: Rey/Ben Solo | Kylo Ren
Comments: 4
Kudos: 14
Collections: Chocolate Box - Round 5





	The First Day of the Rest of Their Lives

**Author's Note:**

  * For [bittersnake](https://archiveofourown.org/users/bittersnake/gifts).



She isn’t alone. That is the most powerful thing she feels, no matter what it means for the galaxy or anyone else in it. His hand is cradling the nape of her neck, and it is warmth and solace unlike anything she has ever felt before. 

Steadily, she lifts her hand to his face. It is a little less steady as she tries to work out what to do with it. 

“You turned…” she says softly. It is a soft reminder of somewhere else they had been together before that is so far away now. “I’m not sure how much I helped,” she adds, perhaps with a bit of defiant amusement. Reverence in irreverence. 

She cannot help beaming at him until she feels an ache that reacquaints her with her bruised and battered body. Even that doesn’t matter. 

His lips twitch and his face seems to defy him. He almost smiles, but it is as if his body hesitates, uncertain that such an expression belongs to him. He says nothing, but she feels the conflict in him, even now. 

Without another word, the smile falls from her face. She gives his face one last look to assure herself of her course. Then she presses her hand against his face with more certainty. She leans in, and she kisses him. 

She has never done it before, and she has given little thought to how it works. Her confidence is bolstered a little when his other arm, warm and gentle, holds her too. 

She feels nothing but their shared bodily warmth and hears nothing but silence around them. She is quite still, savoring the feel of sharing even breath with him. And when it seems only reasonable to pull away or do something else, she gives him room to breathe on his own again. 

Her smile aches less but shines no less brightly. She breathes a soft sigh of relief that drops her shoulders just a little. And she watches as the most beautiful expression of a return of joy dawns on Ben’s face. He laughs in a way that makes her eyes burn in spite of her own joy. It feels as though she is finally seeing someone who had been hidden away, growing within, go free. 

And he is satisfied with this. She can feel it. 

Then, for a terrible moment is satisfaction - his sense of peace - feels familiar in a terrible way. 

The smile falls from her face when she realizes what is happening. 

He had saved her. He had not only given her back what she had given him, but he had given something of himself, too. He is worn in a way that few, no matter how strong in the Force, could survive. 

The thought of leaving here without him crosses her mind and grips her with horror. She is losing him, and she isn’t powerful enough to stop it. 

“No, Ben…” she says, pleading with him. 

It cannot end here. It isn’t supposed to. She cannot _allow_ it. She remembers lightening and raw, demanding power drawing something that was _hers_ away from her, and she wants it _back_ , but she knows that if she tries there will be nothing but even more loss that way. 

So for a terrible moment, she is alone. Lost because of the conviction that there is no better way. He is too heavy for her to hold up through her own strength alone, but she does her best. She doesn’t want to let him go, even if he is gone. 

_Help me_ , she pleads, to nothing in particular and to _everything_ in the universe. 

Then, a single, solid breath makes Ben’s chest rise and fall. Rey blinks her eyes rapidly as she leans into it, trying to understand what is happening. 

“Ben?” she asks, but then she falls silent before his name has even fully left her lips. She feels a powerful sense of interrupting something. With his next breath, a word comes from his lips, and she feels a second, very familiar presence. At it is there for a moment, clear, warm, apologetic, proud, and finally gone. 

Such a passing she has felt before, and she feels that sorrow will come later. But for now, any reason she had to feel anything but relief and joy fades away she sees Ben open his eyes. He looks dazed for a moment, but then he is clear and with her again. 

She will not take it for granted again. _Never_ , she decides. 

And with that, Rey reaches for Ben’s arm with both hands and a ferocity of will that aims to drag him up to his feet. It takes him a moment before he is able to join her efforts. 

“Come on. We have to get out of here,” she says. It is rather obvious, but she wants him to be with her on the only thing that matters to her now. Bringing Ben Solo out of here alive. 

\- - - 

The Millennium Falcon is the ship that comes for Rey. Of course it is. Ben has done his best to take his own weight as they made their way outside, but he almost loses his knees when he sees it coming down for them. _For her_ , he corrects himself. 

A part of him wants to make a run for it, though he is quite sure the effort might kill him. He thinks that pulling himself away from Rey might kill him. He can’t come up with a reason for it, and he doesn’t know if it is an emotion or something tangible, as real as the air he needs to breathe. 

He glances over at her and she looks at the ship as it levels with the horizon like it’s _hope_. 

Of course she does. Of course she _can_. He wills himself to trust her. 

The ramp lowers to allow her to run inside. Ben still drags his feet a little as she keeps a commanding grip on his elbow. Too long, it seems, as he sees boots appear on the ramp from above. He hears them, too. 

He is surprised that it is anyone but Chewbacca. His chest fills with fear and a tinge of instinctive indignation. Indignation he has no right to. Both his hands clench, fingers curling toward his palms, but they don’t form fists. 

Then he’s hollow again. Without anger, authority, or power, Ben barely remembers how to conduct himself. He wonders who is approaching them. And in a moment of nothing but impulse, he takes a step forward, positioning himself in front of Rey. He doesn’t know what he is protecting her from, if he is protecting her, and his mind rattles as he hears and feels his boot make contact with the metal, the exact angle, density, feel, and sound of it a part of his blood. 

“Young lady, are you alright?” Lando Calrissian asks. Then the man stops a few long strides above where Ben stands. 

“Ben Solo,” Lando says. The weight of another familiar voice he had thought never to hear again makes Ben lower his gaze. His arm is limp in Rey’s grip now, and he falls back half a pace, at her side again. He won’t hide behind her, though. He doesn’t deserve whatever protection she might grant from what is coming next. 

He has survived. He is the person his mother had hoped remained. Whatever is left of Ben Solo. He knows what she has given for him to live. But he’s not sure it’ll do any good. 

“You’re here again. On your father’s ship,” Lando continues. Without looking up, Ben is vaguely aware of Lando cocking his head inquisitively. 

Ben wonders if this is an interrogation. He swallows hard, considering for a moment what is the correct thing to say in response. 

“I… fully intend to place myself at the mercy and judgment of the Resist–the Republic,” Ben says. He does not know if the Republic exists once more, or if it ever will again. He simply knows that the First Order is no more, and that he is leader of nothing. “Kylo Ren is dead,” he adds simply, lowering his head further and unconsciously tensing as he braces for a blow of one kind or another. 

Rey lets go of his arm. 

He feels even more afraid. 

“Look up here,” Lando says, and he feels a steady hand clamp over his shoulder. 

He does as he is told, blinking before meeting Lando’s eyes. 

“Your father. Your mother. I know that they… didn’t give all they had to see you fall here,” he says. “Whatever happens now… I know I’m not your dad. Making no claim to know half as much of what you’ve done. But I’m going to make my displeasure known if they try anything I think Han Solo wouldn’t have done himself,” he explains. Then there is a blow, but it is light and painless as he strikes Ben’s arm in against his body. 

“Come on. You’re home,” Lando says after a longer moment of consideration. 

Then, perhaps in the greatest show of trust anyone who had known Han Solo could give him, he turns his back on him and retreats back up the ramp. 

When there are no longer any eyes on them, Ben feels Rey’s fingers thread through his. He wishes he could feel her skin. 

“And me,” she says as they make their way into the Falcon. The sound of the ramp retracting and sealing the ship tight almost masks her voice. She doesn’t let go of his hand as she turns to him and looks up into his eyes. He can read the words from her lips as much as he hears them “I won’t let them take you,” she says. 

He doesn’t know if she can keep that promise. He determines that he will not hold her to it, but he feels the undeserved surety of it all the same. 

\- - - 

Ajan Kloss is lush and green. Usually, Rey appreciates life in a place more than anything else and could ignore anything that is less than pleasant about it. At least it isn’t a desert. 

But now, in the midst of hundreds and hundreds of people, some of whom she knows and others whom she has never seen who are simply happy to be free and alive, she feels sticky. The air is thick like hot breath, and all the people milling about only make the problem worse. 

She draws a deep breath and lets it out slowly, rather dreading the feel of her own breath as she exhales. She knows that feeling is why she isn’t entirely happy to be here now, even if she should be. 

Ben walks at her side as if they are opposite poles of a magnet. She does not mind his heat. It isn’t as if he could make it much worse, and at least for the moment he is dry. 

She and Lando had thought it may be for the best if he changed clothes before leaving the ship. 

His eyes are still tired and red around the edges, but they’re dry enough, now. 

She is looking for them because she knows she must. 

Right now is the best time, really. She isn’t a political strategist, but she knows that now, while everyone is happy and while few people are thinking about what happens next, is the best time to go to the only people she has known as anything that might approach personal allies, friends, with what she has decided. This is her one condition, and they should know it before anyone else. 

“Rey,” Ben says lowly, bowing his head a bit so as to make sure his words reach her ear. “Do you think it may be for the best if I go find a place in the jungle? To wait,” he suggests. 

His fear is palpable and in perfect alignment with her dread, but she shakes her head and doesn’t even look at him as she presses on through the crowd as they zig and zag before and around them. 

“No,” she says. “You have nothing to fear here. Not today,” she promises. Decides, more than promises. 

“Rey,” he says, and she knows he is disagreeing, but then she thinks he may have been warning her given his height advantage over her. He must have seen them first. 

The crowd parts enough, and Rey’s eyes come into focus. Finn and Poe are there, side by side and alive and well. She breathes out a sigh of relief. Then she inhales and draws herself into a straight and dignified, possibly defensive posture. She braces herself. 

She watches as responses play across their faces and words die on their lips. She sees indignation on Poe’s face, a snarl as he looks at the man he can only see as Kylo Ren. And for knowing what she knows of him, she does not leap to blame. But her hand does reach out, arm forming a bar before Ben Solo’s waist. 

“What’s _he_ doing here?” Finn asks. She knows Finn better, and she doesn’t have to put as much consideration into understanding what she sees on his face, hears in his voice. He feels betrayed, and after a moment of confusion, he is looking to her for answers. 

Poe seems ready to back him up, as if he is drawing up kindling to form a fire he’d held at bay. There is a nervous energy in the way he takes a step forward, as if to move past Rey and take control of something. She knows that he has been trained for this, but she also won’t allow it. 

Rey moves to step bodily in front of Ben. 

“Stay right there,” Rey cautions Poe with a surprising lash of authority in her tone. 

It is enough to give Poe pause, even though she holds no command over him. He meets her eyes. 

“No harm is to come to _anyone_ here. This man included,” she says, inching toward persuasion rather than demands as she can tell that he is, at least, listening. 

“Rey, that _man_ is a mass murderer. I don’t care who his–” Finn says, and she knows that he has been frustrated. Something has been happening to her for the past year, and he hasn’t been able to understand, to reach a part of her. But she won’t let Ben hear that again. Not now. 

“Stop,” she says. She lifts her hand in a gesture to indicate the same. “Ben?” she asks. She steps toward Finn and doesn’t take her eyes off his, but she feels she can make out the shape of Ben standing in place behind her. “Tell them what you told Lando,” she says softly. 

She anticipates that he will simply tell the truth, but her ears and that unavoidable sense of his _presence_ , especially when she had known its lack for a terrible, long moment, tell her otherwise. 

She turns her head to see him start to kneel to his knees on the ground. She is a bit too far away to grab him and tell him not to. And for the first time, she pauses to question that impulse. Perhaps she cannot simply order him to stop what he has spent years learning to do in order to survive his terrible choices. 

“Ben,” she says softly. She turns to him and kneels down to meet him on the ground. She feels the uneven ground - leaves and twigs, dirt and grass - dig against her knees. She reaches out for his arm, but instead of trying to tug him, she rubs up and down its length. Through the shirt she can feel that it is lean and strong, but it is powerless and hanging at his side. 

“I know what I’m doing,” Ben assures her softly. She isn’t sure when he will hardly meet her eyes. 

“Ben,” she repeats. She knows that she has said his name so many times in these last hours, but she doesn’t think she will ever tire of it. Besides, she thinks he needs to hear it. He needs someone to _believe him_ now, no matter what comes next. 

She rests her hand against his forearm through thin, softly aged cloth. 

“You don’t need to _bow_ to anyone. Not anymore,” she says. 

“Rey, this guy had the whole First Order bowing to him until hours ago,” Finn replies, unable or unwilling to stop himself. “What makes you think anything has changed? He lost. He’s looking for a place to hide.” 

Rey looks back over her shoulder, finally no longer able to suppress a flash of anger. 

“He helped me kill Palpatine,” she says, hating the taste of the name on her tongue. Then she looks at Ben and, with the weight of some decision, she lifts her hand as she had before. She touches his face, evoking a private memory that she is coming dangerously close to making apparent. “Ben, tell them what you told Lando,” she repeats. She no longer tries to make him stand to his feet first. Here on the ground with him, it seems less as if he is demeaning himself because he believes that there is some great distance between honor and where he sits. 

“Kylo Ren is dead,” Ben says, and Rey feels something swell in her chest - a flicker of hope and satisfaction - when he lifts his chin to do it. She can tell he is looking squarely into Finn’s eyes. And something in the air shifts. Only it isn’t in the air. It is something she hasn’t felt before that makes her look back at Finn again with renewed curiosity which seems to wipe away some of the tension between them. “You,” Ben says, apparently feeling the same, “... you were a Stormtrooper,” he says, fumbling his words a bit. 

“You’re not doing a lot to convince me you’re anything but a pompous bastard,” Finn replies without hesitation in his voice, but he hasn’t looked away from Ben yet. 

“But you know I’m telling you the truth,” Ben says, hiding nothing as he shifts his weight and begins to rise to his feet, slowly. 

“Well, she’s vouching for you. And I’m sorry to say, but I think Finn’s a little inclined to believe anything Rey says,” Poe chimes in. He is reaching for Finn’s shoulder, protective perhaps. He has noticed the strange recognition happening between the other two men, and he seems not to like it. 

“It’s alright,” Rey tells him. She gets to her feet and comes closer to both Finn and Poe, lifting her hand, this time in a gesture of peace. 

“You seem awfully okay with someone suddenly switching sides when the wind blows a different direction,” Poe remarks, looking at Rey without any intent to withhold his opinion, either. 

Rey narrows her eyes at him, but she takes a breath and knows that she ought to feel at least some sense of understanding and not just pity or anger. 

“Yes, I am. And I thought you might understand that,” she replies. 

Somewhere in the periphery of her awareness, Rey knows that there are other people around them. She knows that they are getting uncomfortable glances, but if anyone around them recognizes them or has an opinion, they are wise enough not to weigh in. Another deep breath and Rey reminds herself to stay her temper. Poe apparently has other ideas. 

“Oh, you do _not_ get to compare what Finn went through to _him_. He was practically royalty and grew up right in the middle of it. Finn was _kidnapped_ and turned into a slave and a soldier for the likes of him.” 

“All you need to know right now is that you don’t know everything,” Rey offers, only halfway to placating. 

“And you do?” Poe counters. 

Rey remembers her anger toward Kylo Ren. She knows the passion with which she had _hated_ him. She tries to remember it for their sake. Then a part of her is almost relieved that the brunt of Poe’s anger seems directed at her. That doesn’t stop it from kindling the fire she is trying to keep at bay when he studies her silence and makes a determination that allows him to snort and look down his nose at both of them with disgust. 

“Ah, you _do_ ,” he says. Then he finally claps his hand against Finn’s arm, withdrawing even his notice - at least that is how it seems meant to appear. “Come on, buddy,” he says to Finn, pointedly. “Let’s go get you something to drink.” 

Finn looks a bit addled. A grateful expression washes over his face when Poe offers him a way out. And for a moment, they both walk away, leaving Rey there with Ben. 

She looks up at him, almost wincing. No one had come to blows, but there is still nothing better she can offer him here. With them. With anyone. She wonders if Rose may be any more understanding, but she remembers the tale of how Finn and Rose had met and harbors little hope. 

Then, she hears Finn’s voice calling back as it grows further away, step by step. 

“Uh, Rey? You guys can… get something to drink, too. This way. If you want. Pretty sure they’re not counting credits today.” 

It’s not much, but at least it’s something. She nods and for a moment a small smile comes across her face. As she watches Finn and Poe their way ahead, her gaze narrows at the back of Poe’s head. 

And for a moment, when her mind clears, it occurs to her what the hardest part of all of this might be. Her expression goes slack as she looks out over the crowd and watches Finn and Poe disappear into it, though not beyond retrieval. She lifts her chin, swallows hard, and closes her eyes for a moment. 

“Rey?” Ben asks. He is lost, and she has to decide where they go from here. She doesn’t open her eyes when she answers him. 

“Take my hand,” she says. It takes a moment, but she does not move except to breathe until he does. Then she feels a smile grow on her face. The humid heat seems less intolerable after all, though it seems like a good idea to try and do something about it, too. 

She starts to walk through the crowd, taking the lead when she must, to carve a path after her disgruntled friends. And so on the first day of whatever is to come, she walks hand in hand with the man whose name is only Kylo Ren to so many. Some may not know his face, but others do, and she knows they will talk. She decides, then and there, that she cannot care what they say. 

\- - - 

The daylight hours on Ajan Kloss are exceptionally long. At least, Ben surmises that they must be. By the time twilight takes hold and the celebrations of his - the First Order’s - defeat end, or move their locations to quieter and more private places, he is dizzy with exhaustion. 

At some point in their drinking, Rey’s friends - the pilot and the former Stormtrooper with some sense of the Force - had taken on a different tone. Their suspicious glances had grown softer, and before long they had begun to joke about his presence. And no matter how much his skin burned and how difficult it had been to look up from the drink Rey occasionally saw refilled, it was easier to bare than the thought that one of them may change his mind and turn on him with a weapon or a fist. It wasn’t the pain he dreaded so much as what would come next. 

He didn’t trust how he would react. 

The softness that came with their drinking whatever they were drinking was the far better alternative. 

When night finally overtakes the landscape and people scatter toward homes and ships and barracks alike, Ben slips away, trudging back they came, through trees and grass. Sweat runs down his neck and along his spine, and for the first time he is simply relieved to see the Falcon. 

Inside, he is too tired to allow himself to grieve how empty and quiet it is now. He simply finds a low bunk. He takes off his boots and falls back against it. He closes his eyes and hears the life support system, the climate control, and every other sound that flows through the Millennium Falcon like its breath. He knows so much about it even now without any real effort to _remember_. 

He doesn’t need to try to remember. No, the harder thing would be to forget. To _let go_. 

So he doesn’t. He doesn’t try. He sinks into the bunk and breathes in and out, deep and slow. He sinks into everything the silence means and the scent he cannot get out of his nose and the smells that are nowhere to be found anymore. His eyes burn against the darkness he finds in closing them. But it doesn’t last for long. His skin feels like it is leaking some of the light it had taken in through the way - maybe a little burnt. But the blanket over his body is cool, and he doesn’t stick to the sheet stretched out beneath him after a few moments. 

In the silence, he finds peaceful nothingness. And it is the first time in a long time he has slept and been afraid of nothing. 

If he dreams, they fall away into insensibility. He is startled when he becomes aware again. It may have been moments, and it may have been time for sunrise again, though he guesses something closer to the former. He feels fingers grasping at his shoulder and jostling him, halting and uncertain. He takes a gasping breath as if he has come up from being underwater. 

“Ben,” Rey whispers softly. 

He gets the impression that she has asked for him several times before now, but the moment he turns to meet her eyes, she withdraws a little. She makes herself small, arms tight along the sides of her body. She is sitting on his bunk, close to his feet. Her face is dark in shadow, but he knows her face like his own reflection. 

He feels his heartbeat settling down, calm rather than fear. 

“What’s wrong?” he asks, straightening his posture as he lies on his back. 

“Nothing,” she says, a little quickly. Her gaze remains downcast as it seems to work its way up toward his eyes, along his body, without quite reaching them. “I came to find you.” 

Ben blinks several times. It hadn’t occurred to him that she might worry. For the first time in a while, she had been there, and he had hardly noticed. 

“You found me,” he says with a smile tugging at the corners of his lips. He isn’t sure if he should fight it or not. He still feels the pull of sleep tugging at his mind. “I think you could find me anywhere.” 

“You found me,” Rey says. He doesn’t ask her what she means. He doesn’t have time. 

As fast and impulsive as before, she moves to lean down over him and to kiss him. It’s a little less firm than the first time, but the softness asks for movement. 

Ben’s hand comes up to Rey’s arm to steady her and to hold onto her. They are both slow and uncertain to the point of clumsiness. His fingertips slip from fabric to skin and he feels the rough edges of a scar interrupt the flow of her smooth skin. It is only a scar, and the thought of how many bruises and cuts they have both collected in the past few days should make the sensation irrelevant to anything. But it makes him stop. 

He presses back against the pillow enough to break the kiss. He looks up into her eyes. She seems to have no intention of leaving. 

“Rey,” he says softly, and he isn’t sure why he’s apologizing. His voice goes thick, a bit deeper. 

“Sorry,” she says, quickly. Again, she doesn’t move, only holding steady in her position above him, ready to pin him but not pressing down. “I… thought you…” 

“You thought I…” he prompts, surprised into something that sounds like confidence. He smirks. If only he had the courage to be honest. While her presence had calmed him at first, his heart is hammering inside his chest again. 

“Well, I’ve never done this before, but I _assumed_ …” Rey explains, but then she trails off. For all her bravado, she doesn’t seem to have all the words she is tempted to say. 

“No,” he says. It isn’t a prohibition. His face feels clammy and heat rises into it. He shows his palms, arms crooked and bared in the universal sign of being unarmed. 

For some reason, Rey snorts softly, stifling laughter at him. 

He finds himself laughing quietly, too. It makes him feel too light. He had forgotten what it felt like. 

“Am I wrong, though?” Rey asks. Her own face is a brighter shade than usual, even in the near darkness inside the Falcon when the lighting is turned all the way down. “Are you wrong in thinking that I… want… you?” Ben asks, struggling over the words but ultimately settling on the simplest ones. 

“Yes,” Rey says, barely voiced off the tip of her tongue. He can feel the way she is bracing herself over him tense. 

“The only thing in the universe,” he says, earnestly. “I’m just not sure that now… is the time for me to prove it,” he says, hoping that it is pointed enough. He makes sure to meet her eyes before looking away from them, showing his contrition and, maybe, his fear. “Rey, I haven’t… _laughed_ until today in… years. I don’t think what I’d… give you now… is what I want to give you.” 

He is surprised when, after a moment of heavy, thoughtful silence, she laughs again. It is enough to make him look at her face, confused. 

“I don’t care,” she says, right when he is about to worry. “Ben, I just… wanted to find you,” she says. 

He isn’t sure if she meant finding him on the Falcon, or finding _him_ when no one else could. He decides that one is as good as the other. He searches for something to say, but nothing seems profound enough. 

“I can… wait, for whatever that’s… worth,” Rey says awkwardly into the silence. Then she is moving and Ben’s eyes follow, almost regretting his decision in the pit of his stomach, into loneliness that runs through his entire being, even when she is right beside him. Then, he feels her pick up his hand, dead weight, from the bed. He allows her to reposition it, and she holds it over his chest. 

She squirms into a position alongside him. 

“I want to take your hand,” she says simply. “Whatever else is… whatever else.” 

And without asking for further permission, she finds a place to lean her head against his chest. He feels her breathing, first distinct and discordant but then finding a rhythm that almost matches his own. They lapse into silence. For a while, he stares upward, rigid and anxious. Then, his eyelids grow heavy and he looks down to watch hers do the same. 

He regrets so many things. He knows that even if he tries, he will lose consciousness before he can think of them all. He doesn’t know what he’ll begin to do with the rest of his life, trying to outrun what he’s become. At least he isn’t alone. 

**Author's Note:**

> Full disclosure: This is my first completed reylo fic, and I have not seen TROS. However, I know almost all the horrors that I am in store for if and when I watched it. I meant to see it, but at some point I started conscientiously objecting. However, I did consult with several people who have seen it to try and create how a movie I would want to see might end while changing as little as possible. 
> 
> To my recipient: I tried to touch on as many little details from your letter as possible - the spirit of it, at least. Thank you so much for filling it out for me, and I really hope this was enjoyable for you!


End file.
